


I'm just as human as you are, if not more

by mywritinghandtwitches976



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Awkward Romance, M/M, Robot/Human Relationships, Self-Discovery, also hope's peak, humor -- kind of, this is my first work here sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-08 23:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10398942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywritinghandtwitches976/pseuds/mywritinghandtwitches976
Summary: Kiibo is beyond excited to finally be attending the prestigious Hope's Peak Academy, and even more so to have a golden opportunity at making friends. Friends outside of the lab, who might actually forget he's a robot like he's wanted for so long.Standing before the school, he's ready to start a new beginning. He's ready for whatever this new school life has to throw at him....Apparently this sentiment excluded Ouma Kokichi.(In other words, how Kiibo learned to love and be himself in the process.)





	1. In This New Day I Find My New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning ahead of time, my writing's crap.

“There’s a difference between thinking about the things around us, trying to figure them out logically and calmly, versus thinking thoughts we can’t handle, Kiibo. You wonder too much for a boy your age.” 

 

He didn’t have an organic human brain like everyone else. He was a one of a kind, fully AI system, composed of pieces and parts, not DNA and cells. The blood through his veins, commands and data through webs of intricate circuits in his metal body. His skin, synthetic, and his body a steel, imposable frame. He lacked a brain and a heart, but most of all the right to call himself human. 

 

His mind was a motherboard, running on electricity and programming, and he wasn’t even sure his thoughts were something to call his at all. 

 

The thoughts first started surfacing around the time he turned thirteen. Professor Iidabashi had told him it was normal to start having “questions” and “new urges” at that age, but that didn’t prevent Kiibo from worrying about his new, overbearing, thoughts and feelings nonetheless. 

 

His very livelihood was artificial.  _ False. _

 

He’d be lying if he said the fact didn’t bother him.

 

Constantly surrounded by humans,  _ real  _ humans who hadn’t been programmed or created from a bottle, but born through the god-given cycle of life, Kiibo knew his roboticism was a fact he could never forget. He  _ couldn’t  _ forget, because a memory drive, no matter how advanced or how primitive,  _ never  _ forgets. 

 

Professor Iidabashi’s words rang in his ears, they had been for a long time. Ever since the day he’d first spoken them, Kiibo’s been unable to let them go.

 

He had wanted to deny it at first, but Kiibo knew he thought too much for someone who didn’t have thoughts of his own at all. 

 

He closes his eyes, only for a moment, as he stands before the illustrious Hope’s Peak Academy. It’s taller than he’d expected; the building reaches to the sky almost desperately and sprawls on the flat plane of earth with greed. Nerves are glitching in the pit of his stomach, but Kiibo can’t wipe the widespread smile off his face. 

 

Opening his eyes, Kiibo snaps out of his personal reflection. It’s his first day as a member of Hope’s Peak’s 79th Class; a hallmark to his future, Kiibo decides, and with a new day dawning on the horizon it’s time to forget the past. He’d make friends, people who could forget he was a robot! Who would treat him like a normal teenag--

 

“Nnph!” Kiibo goes into full alert mode when he feels something small but direct poking into the center his back. He turns a full one-eighty almost involuntarily only to be met with a piercing, curious purple gaze.

 

A human boy, probably Kiibo’s age by the looks of it, extends his hand, bony index finger with neatly trimmed nails, towards Kiibo. His hair fans around him at the sides, violet to match his inquisitive eyes. The boy is small in stature, smaller than Kiibo at the very least, and with the exception of a fluffy black and white checkered scarf around his neck, he’s perfectly and pristinely dressed in the Hope’s Peak Academy uniform.

 

If not for the uniform, and the tall bulky man dressed head-to-toe in black, arms crossed over his chest and standing behind him, Kiibo likely would’ve mistaken him for a lost child.

 

A moment passes, where the two are only left to look into each other’s eyes, before a spark flies down the back of Kiibo’s spine,  _ This is one of my classmates! This is my first opportunity to make a friend! _

 

Kiibo takes a minute to steel himself, letting pent-up, nervous steam rush out of his ears and taking a deep breath through his mouth. 

 

“H-Hello!” he reels when the tremble in his voice hits him, the boy in front of him cocking an eyebrow. Extending a metal hand as a greeting, he continues, “I am Kiibo! I believe I may be your new classmate here! May I ask what your name is?”

 

The boy is silent, too silent and for far too long for Kiibo’s liking. His pale face returns to completely neutral, unreadable even to Kiibo--who’s done his fair share of research on the subject. Kiibo tries desperately to still the loud drumming of his insides.

 

Fighting his nerves is quickly proving to be a vain effort, if the sudden spinning in his eyes is any indication.

 

Turning on his heel, the purple-haired boy reaching into an inner pocket of his earthy brown jacket, and forks over a healthy wad of money to the man in black, who walks away after skimming the cash with a chubby finger and leaves the young teenager to address the robot. 

 

Folding his arms and straightening his back, the boy suddenly looks imposing and dignified with a sharp, proud lift of his chin. For all his work, though, the curious glitter in his heliotrope eyes still gleams with a distinct childish interest.

 

“My name’s Ouma Kokichi,” he begins, flashing Kiibo a boyish smirk and giving attentive focus to sing-songing each lengthened syllable of his name, wiggling his finger side to side with each spoken word. The boy, Ouma, huffs before continuing. 

 

“And from today onward, robot, you will be my slave.”

  
  
  
  


_ Uh oh. _


	2. Are All Humans Like This?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiibo gets dragged head-first into his new school life...as well as a relationship with Ouma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so happy about the positive response to my first chapter, I immediately began with a second!
> 
> Anyway, I would just like to say that Ouma's intent isn't to take advantage of Kiibo. I felt like I should address that beforehand.
> 
> Also, I'm unsure if this has the same sort of feel to it as the first chapter, but the reason I wrote it like this was to set up a third.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Kiibo learned his fair share about his new “friend” Ouma Kokichi in a mortifyingly short amount of time.

 

For starters, his talent was apparently the “SHSL Supreme Ruler,” a title Kiibo hadn’t even considered a skill before Ouma had come around...but then again who was he to talk about  _ unconventional  _ talents.

 

“I’ll have you know that I run a highly influential evil organization,” Ouma rambled animatedly, spindly hands moving sporadically as they walked side by side. “With over ten thousand members, DICE is the most fearsome underground operation in Japan.”

 

Ouma talked so fast and excitedly that Kiibo could only be left assuming “DICE” was the evil organization in question. The supreme ruler quickly followed with, “Take notes, this will be important!”

 

“But I--!”

 

Ouma skips along the pavement, Kiibo’s hand entwined with his own. Despite his naturally frail, malnourished appearance, Ouma’s pull is strong and forceful.

 

...Much like his personality, as Kiibo is quickly realizing.

 

“Ah, but--!” Kiibo begins, only to stumble over his words when his feet do the same. “I suppose that would explain your bodyguard earlie--!”

 

“That it would!” Ouma sings. He halts in his path up the school drive abruptly, nearly knocking Kiibo straight into him. Kiibo steadies himself shakily. “With all the murder contracts out for me, I need a bodyguard!”

 

_ He is saying this with such a straight face--! How--! _

 

Kiibo opens his mouth to say something when a slender finger presses against his lips. Ouma wears a sideways grin as he circles said finger on Kiibo’s synthetic skin, dipping into his mouth once or twice.

 

“Hush, hush, and carry this for me, robot.” the supreme leader dumps a heavy, black book bag into Kiibo’s arms. Despite Ouma’s well groomed and neat appearance, his bag is anything but with assorted papers jammed in various pockets and looking ready to fly out at any moment. “Don’t look in there, either, or I’ll have to jab your eyes out!”

 

“D-Do not tell me anything  _ i-illegal  _ is in here!”

 

The violet-haired boy shrugs. “Nothing too illegal, at least not in Japan.”

 

“I-I do not feel comfortable carryin--!”

 

“Nishishi~! Too bad~!” 

 

Kiibo is about to protest again when Ouma puts his hands on his hips, flashes a lop-sided cheeky smile, and says, “Besides, don’t friends usually do this kinda thing?”

 

“I am...your friend?”

 

“Of course, silly!”

 

Kiibo’s heart begins to race and his eyes widen. He gasps, nearly dropping the bag.

 

_ I have...a friend. _

 

Ouma sighs exasperatedly. “Yeesh, stop getting stuck in your robo-head.” He helps sling his bag over a frozen Kiibo’s arm, freeing his hands to be taken in Ouma’s yet again.

 

“Now get moving, you’re going to make us late. Lateness is a big no-no.”

 

“Ah! Y-Yeah! Let us go!”

 

“Good.”

 

“O-Ouma-kun! D-Don’t pull so much--!”

  
  


\--

 

Unlike Ouma, who had taken to graphically describing the specifics of the day-to-day life of an evil overlord, Kiibo was far more interested in the architecture of the school they were in the midst of touring. He had well-informed himself prior to of what the infamous  _ first day  _ of school, entailed: for freshmen, a mere formality and a tour of the grounds while teachers and upperclassmen prepared for the year ahead. While the very thought fascinated Kiibo, a heavily-sighing Ouma wasn’t so impressed.   


  
“Arrrgh, this is boo-ooring! Let’s get out of here, robo-chan!”

 

“N-No! We must not ditch!”

 

“ _ Goody two shoes. _ ”   
  


“What did you say, Ouma-kun?”

 

His attempt at an innocent grin is far from convincing. “Nothing~!”

 

The many stacked floors and winding halls of Hope’s Peak were so different from Kiibo’s life in the lab, he’d instantly taken to examining every detail of them, a perplexed, awed grin plastered to his mouth and a gleam in his eye. Still, his most favorite part of his new school life thus far had been their dip into the interior gardens on the fifth floor; seeing the spectacular array of blooming flowers, toxic plants, and unique specimens bred by elites of the school. Kiibo had practically  _ drooled _ .

 

_ You are just like me,  _ he thought, eyes glued to a particular tall red flora towering in the middle of the greenhouse, apparently a “MonoMono Flower.”  _ You were created, as was I, and are also singled out among those you were made to replicate. I can understand. _

 

To a very attentive Kiibo’s dismay, the tour concludes surprisingly quickly, but Ouma wastes no time in pulling the robot away again. Kiibo isn’t sure where they’re headed until he’s being sat on a wooden bench in a distant courtyard, Ouma occupying himself with cursing out a sticky button on a nearby vending machine.

 

“Damn thing! I could blow you off the face of the earth with a  _ snap of my fingers _ , how dare you defy me!” the supreme leader violently kicks the machine, scuffing one of his black dress shoes, and causing him to momentarily wince in pain.

 

“I-I do not think the vending machine can hear you, O-Ouma-kun!” as Ouma continues to lean against it and favor his right foot, Kiibo rushes to his own feet and over to the boy with hasty concern. “A-And I do not think they can feel pain either! Please do not hurt yourself!”

 

Ouma pouts, saying nothing as his violet eyes scan over Kiibo’s synthetic pale skin. Suddenly, he waves his finger around mere millimeters from the tip of Kiibo’s nose, and with his other hand he fiddles aimlessly with the hem of his white button-up.

 

“Hey, do robots have dicks?” he asks curiously, brow unconsciously furrowing as he drives his index finger straight into the point of Kiibo’s nose. Ouma squints when his finger is met with the resistance of metal.

 

“Wh-Why would you ask such a thing?!” 

 

The boy does a quick up-and-down glance of the fitful robot in front of him, leaving ghosting shivers in their wake. Kiibo can feel his face go heated, not only at the question, but especially when Ouma’s inquisitive eyes seem to hover a bit too long at his hips.

 

“Well I want to know. Tell me. Now.” 

 

“A-As if I would answer such a v-vulgar question!” Flustered, a very pink-faced Kiibo nearly falls to the ground backwards as Ouma gets more and more in his space.

 

For a minute, Kiibo thinks Ouma will get mad. If a sticky vending machine button is all it takes for the supreme leader to start breaking out death threats, Kiibo can’t stop his wandering imagination from picturing the millions of morbid possibilities at his own act of “defiance.”

 

_ What if he saws off my limbs?! Or kills my family?! What if he slowly undos all of my programming, circuit by circuit, and bolt by bolt, until I am a malfunctioning mess?! And then will he force me to return to the Professor, a complete disgrace?! _

 

His head spinning with ideas ranging from torture to outright murder, Kiibo almost doesn’t notice Ouma’s brimming tears.

 

“You...You’re not going to tell me?” the supreme leader whimpers. He wraps his arms around his chest, crossing them tightly, and sinks backwards against the machine. “S-Stupid robot! I thought what we had was sp-special!”

 

Kiibo debates putting his hands on the shoulders of the sobbing, small boy, fingers tensing and relaxing, awkward and stiff, as his hands move back and forth between the distance separating the two. Eventually he settles on delicately tapping the top of Ouma’s head comfortingly.

 

_ His hair is...surprisingly soft! _

 

Ouma buries his head in his knees further, muttering something inaudible. 

 

_ Focus, Kiibo! Now is not the time to admire Ouma-kun’s impressive personal hygiene!  _

 

Kiibo blinks. “Wh-What was that, Ouma-kun? Are you feeling better now? What can I do to help?”

 

The supreme leader’s head shoots up at Kiibo’s question, plump tears and pink cheeks replaced with a sharp childish frown. 

 

“I  _ said  _ you’re nothing but a hunk of garbage. Go away, you’re not allowed to be my friend anymore. You only made it a day, you jerk!”

 

There’s a pause. A long, dreadfully silent one, where Kiibo wonders if he’s misheard Ouma. The birds chirping in the distance and the rustling of pines in the wind are a far away thought as Kiibo scours Ouma’s face of any indication that he’s made the unkind words up.

 

Kiibo winds up short.

 

He’s unsure how he feels. No matter how much praise he received, for being “revolutionary technology” or “a true advancement for modern science,” being a robot was still being a robot.

 

And he hated it.

 

He’s never cried. He’s never felt the need to cry, or understood why humans did it. But Ouma’s words serve as a reminder, a dark reminder, of things Kiibo would like to forget. Even if he  _ couldn’t  _ forget, at least  _ pretend _ .

 

It’s the first time in his life where he gets it. Feels the need that builds in the corner of his eyes and in his chest.

 

“I...do not think friends call other friends ‘hunks of garbage.’” Kiibo fights the biting disdain threatening his voice.

 

“You’re my slave! I can call you whatever I want!”

 

Kiibo cocks his head to the side in confusion. Unknowingly, the spiky strand of hair at the top of his head contorts into something akin to a question mark.

 

“I thought you said I was your friend, not your slave. Am I not your friend after all?”

 

“Same difference!” Ouma barks. He scoots further and further away from Kiibo, who has opted to kneel by his side, and shrinks even further into himself. “Slave? Friend? It’s all the same, you dumb piece of metal!”

 

“If modern history books are to be believed, slaves and friends are most certainly not the same thing, Ouma-kun.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m a special case! Honestly, you don’t catch on quickly, do you?!”

 

Kiibo scowls. He shifts until he’s seated on the pavement, and hesitantly puts his hand on Ouma’s shoulder. The boy whimpers and almost jumps at the sudden touch.

 

“You’re  _ supposed  _ to ask friends questions while you’re getting to know them, right?” he whispers. The tremble in his voice is distinct. “I asked you a question.”

 

_ I am not even sure what I am supposed to be thinking right now. _

 

“I-I do not think friends talk about g-g-g-genitalia!” Kiibo’s head sinks into his collar in a desperate attempt to cover the embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks.

 

“Don’t talk back to me! I want to know about your robo-cock!”

 

_ O-Out of all the things to ask about--?! Wh-Why--?! _

 

Kiibo takes a deep breath in, exhaling slowly. “But...if you have other questions you would like to ask, I will answer them. Because...I would like to become your friend as well, Ouma-kun. Does this mean I can ask about your organization too then?”

 

Ouma pauses. Not for the first time that day, Kiibo couldn't seem to get a good read on him.

 

“You know, if you ask too many questions, I’ll have no choice but to disable your talk function~!” Kiibo shivers at the unnerving grin and laugh that follows. As if his fit had never happened, Ouma’s eyes begin to glitter. “Wait, can I actually do something like that?!”

 

The robot groans uncomfortably as Ouma just about jumps him. His hands and fingers dig so deeply into Kiibo’s shoulders he actually wonders for a minute if they’ll leave marks in the metal, and the bony knee digging into his thigh is hardly comfortable either.

 

“O-Only the Professor is able to disable any of my functions entirely, but magnets can disturb my programming as well if I get too close to them.” Kiibo answers, sighing as he pushes Ouma’s small frame a healthy distance away from him. The task proves more difficult that he had thought, Ouma's far clingier than he looks.

 

“So you’re like a phone, then?! Or are you more of a laptop?!”

 

“Oh! I, uh--”

 

It hurt. 

 

Kiibo had hoped, with all his being, that Hope’s Peak would be the place where he forgot.

 

...But if it was what could get him a friend, his  _ first  _ friend, then he would put up with it for the time being. Ouma was the first person aside from the Professor, or any of the other scientists, to pay any mind to Kiibo. No matter how much it stung.

  
  


 

After all, he’s only a robot. That’s all he’d ever be. 

  
  


Kiibo’s smile is bittersweet. Their afternoon has been spent doing nothing but talking, asking each other questions. Ouma rambles on after Kiibo inquires about his role as an evil leader, leaving Kiibo in a disoriented aback state, caught in a vain attempt at trying to understand even half of Ouma’s words. 

 

But...it’s a good type of confusion. It’s new and different, and for once it isn’t about humans or how to be human as a whole, but a specific human. A purple-headed human, easily excitable and set with a morbid sense of humor. 

 

It’s a confusion for a single, specific thing, and a need to learn more about it.

 

There are the little things Kiibo’s noticed about him too. 

 

He bounces on the balls of his feet as he walks the halls of Hope’s Peak, wiry body rocking side to side with each step. He speaks vividly about world domination and grape-flavored drinks when he feels like talking, and when he doesn’t the silence that follows him is oppressive. 

 

Ouma speaks far too much, in all honestly. His words are laced with lies, thick with dishonesty and exaggeration, punctuated in an almost trademark, nasally laugh. 

 

“You really thought I was crying?” Ouma asks incredulously, in response to Kiibo’s newest question. “Wow, you’re dumber than you look~! Nishishi!”

 

He sings his words, all of them, and it’s impossible to tell which ones are meant to hurt and which are meant to humor.

 

And somehow, through some means, he’s irrevocably obsessed with Kiibo.

 

“I’ll give you a hint~! It’s not because you’re a robot~!”

  
  
Kiibo swears he’ll find out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for reading, and comments/feedback would be greatly appreciated. I am always working to improve my writing!
> 
> Please let me know if there are any typos or if something felt unclear or ooc so I can fix it. If anything wasn't descriptive enough either, I am happy to fix that too!
> 
> I hope you liked it!


	3. In This Cold, How Is It That I Feel So Warm?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiibo and Ouma spend the day outside, and talk about some things Kiibo finds he shouldn't ask about.
> 
> AKA Ouma has boundaries, and it surprises me too.
> 
> (I'm bad at writing summaries.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, even though I've owned the game since the day it came out, I finally got a Switch earlier this weekend and the new Zelda game has been absorbing my life. (Not that I had much of one to begin with.) Haha this is what I get for being such a nostalgia slut.
> 
> Needless to say, this won't be updating as frequently, but then again I update this fic often enough that it will probably go unnoticed anyway, so pointing this out was likely just an exercise in futility. 
> 
> Oh, and in other news I have a fic I've been slowly working on to post after this concludes! Yay! 
> 
> (And I didn't even notice it until I was cruising to edit some stuff on this that I realized my second chapter was twice the size of my first...Oops.)
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading!

It’s always a miracle when Ouma decides to finally stop talking. 

 

The stuffy rooms in the third floor dorms didn’t seem to be doing either of them any favors in concentrating on their assigned work, and it wasn’t long until Ouma suggested they go outside. Despite the bitter, lingering chill of a cool fall day, which even Kiibo could feel in his metal bones, Ouma didn’t shiver like a leaf, or even appear to be bothered in the slightest.

 

Then again, Kiibo had insisted Ouma bring the bulky coat that had been lying dormant in the boy’s closet just in case. The supreme leader hadn’t offered any kind of thanks, but him being wrapped tight in the puffy black fur would suffice as such for Kiibo.

 

Despite being in a grade consisting of all but sixteen students, both included, Kiibo had noticed that their collective antisocial tendencies had resulted in them sticking together more than Kiibo would have liked.

 

So, so much more.

 

Of course, the robot wouldn’t deny he was more than happy with the homework help. Surprisingly enough, Ouma was more booksmart than he let on. Even though his memory was sharp and precise, Kiibo was perfectly average in his educational learning functions, making up the fact with his dedication and passion to learn.

 

Where Kiibo was diligent, Ouma was lazy, and where Ouma held his expertise, Kiibo lacked it. Together, they’d fallen into a rhythmic pattern of nagging and, in turn, a serious amount of help in the areas Kiibo needed it most.

 

It was great, having someone to help him with the heaping schoolwork, but Kiibo couldn’t help feeling like his new school life was suddenly revolving entirely around Ouma, and despite quickly making friends with the boy, Kiibo wasn’t so sure it was a good thing.

 

For starters, the other people Kiibo had grown fond of in their first week at Hope’s Peak were...off put by Ouma, to say the least.

 

Saihara Shuuichi was a great example. Ouma nearly glowed when they first talked, partners in their first biology lab assignment, although the SHSL Detective’s forlorn face and unsteady posture throughout the lesson indicated the feeling wasn’t mutual.

 

Especially considering the shining Ouma had taken to him was a little more than just that.

 

Ouma had a  _ crush  _ on him.

 

“What is a crush, Ouma-kun?”

 

“Ha, you don’t know what that is? Did you live under a rock your entire life?” Ouma replied, snickering when a blush smeared itself on Kiibo’s pasty cheeks. “It means I want to make Saihara-chan my boyfriend~!”

 

Kiibo wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

 

But he could ignore that for now.

  
  


The robot’s own lab partner was also a great candidate for a new friend outside of Ouma, Amami Rantarou, a green-haired, laid-back boy with an insight far too perceptive for what Kiibo believed to be his own good.

 

In the case of this potential suitor, however, it was more Ouma’s disatisfaction than his Amami’s own.

 

“He’s an asshole.” Ouma stated bluntly. “I don’t associate with assholes.”

 

Kiibo regretted the conversation that followed. He especially regretted that he was the one to cause it.

 

“Ouma-kun, what is an ‘asshole?’” Kiibo asked, an involuntary, curious question. He could very safely say that he’d never heard of an “asshole” but with Ouma’s insistence that Amami was one, Kiibo felt an even stronger need to ask.

 

“Insistence” probably didn’t even do the act justice.

 

“Nishishi, you don’t know what an asshole is?” Kiibo knew what a “snort” was, if not an asshole, having read a lot of books in his spare time, but he didn’t think a human was capable of such a thing, nor that it would be so...aggressive sounding. “Amami-chan’s a special type of one, but it’s a certain hole in the body.”

 

“I have done my research on the human body, but never have I heard of an ‘asshole.’”

 

Ouma waved his hand dismissively, and almost as if he spoke without a care in the world, he continues, “It’s a slang term for the anus, Kii-bot. You know, the thing people take dumps out of, or in some cases shove certain other body parts in.”

 

Regrettably, it didn’t take Kiibo too long to figure out what that meant.

 

“O-Ouma-kun! I do not think Amami-kun, or anyone else for that matter, deserves to be called such a...such a... _ vulgar  _ name!”

 

“But he is one.”

 

“Th-That is not true!”

 

Ouma pouted for only a minute, a new record low for a dramatic like himself, until a glimmer far too familiar by then flashed in his violet eyes.

 

“ _ Wait, do robots have assholes?! _ ”

 

And thus regret.

 

Needless to say, Kiibo’s lofty goal of having loads of friends was millimeters from being dashed, all because of Ouma’s picky nature in company. Well, that and Kiibo was too shy to talk to anyone outside of classes and group projects.

 

Maybe his first encounter with a living human at Hope’s Peak had traumatized him more than he initially thought.

  
  


Kiibo stares in wonder at the supreme leader, perched on a thick, low-hanging branch of a nearby oak tree. The robot himself had opted for a more comfortable seat at a picnic table bench, but he’d learned it was pointless to try and convince Ouma otherwise when he’d made up his mind.

 

However, Ouma’s unconventional chair was hardly the cause.

 

Ouma looked  _ young.  _ Ever shockingly so, particularly when next to the likes of Momota Kaito, who Kiibo had met after a close-call to a devastating crash in one of the second floor halls, or even Gonta Gokuhara, a burly adult-like figure who was only so in stature while going for a walk at lunch break outdoors on a sunny day.

 

Ouma looked half his age, and acted like he was a quarter of it. The dark bags beneath his eyes told leaps and bounds of truth that neither makeup nor sleep could erase, but that didn’t change his pale, lethargic skin. The boy looked a step away from transparent, exceedingly next to the stark contrast of his dark hair and eyes. He was short, set with a round face, large eyes, and a cute upturned nose. A child he was not, but with his looks he could pass for one any day.

 

It was only until he was swaddled in his oversized coat, huddled down in the thick of the tree, that Kiibo noticed. 

 

And yet even with his small frame looking more childlike than ever, there was still something ethereal about him. Perhaps it was the way his skin glowed, even without sunlight, and even on an overcast day. Perhaps it was the unruly way his hair blew in the wind, or how his brows tightened and his rosy cheeks puffed up when he focused on his work, how his face tinted pink in the cold. Perhaps it was the scene around them, trees slowly being stripped of their leaves, bright and colorful shades of red and orange clinging to the branches, occasionally being swept away by the breeze. 

 

It was weird.

 

Kiibo had actually found himself wondering if something had gone faulty with his programming.

 

He’d almost called the professor once or twice, before deciding against it each time.

 

It didn’t feel like any of his bugs or glitches in the past.

 

It was something new. Completely new, that Kiibo had never experienced before.

 

And it scared him.

 

“Would you mind keeping the staring to a minimum, robot, I’m trying to study.”

 

The blush that followed Ouma’s direct, irritated words verged on being more embarrassing than actually being caught in the first place. 

 

“I-I did not mean to stare. I was just...concerned that you would be uncomfortable sitting up there.”

 

Ouma frowns, closing the English textbook in his lap.

 

“Of course I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” the boy shrugs, “You worry too much.”

 

_ I think too much and now I worry too much. Will there ever be a day I do something just right? _

 

“Well, I have been told that the bark of trees is prickly and uncomfortable to human skin. Is that not correct?” Kiibo inquires, closing his own book and cautiously tucking his papers into the crease.

 

“You forget that I’m wearing gloves and a coat.”

 

“That does not change the fact that I--”

 

“Lay off,  _ Mom. _ ”

 

Kiibo reels for a minute, trying to process, and his eyes glaze over in thought.  _ Did...Ouma just call me “Mom?” Is that supposed to be an insult? I have been told that moms are wonderful and supportive of their children, then would not that be a compliment? _

 

When Kiibo snaps out of it, Ouma’s head is buried once more in an overwhelming book. He’s switched out the first for a new one, and Kiibo presumes that during his personal ride on the train of thought, the boy switched it out for another in his untidy black book bag, hanging on a small branch diagonal to Ouma’s head.

 

In recent days, that same bag had surrounded itself in a  _ unique  _ smell, and that was Kiibo being generous. The robot could only be left guessing that Ouma’s trip to Kimura Seiko, an upperclassman bearing the talent “SHSL Pharmacist,” was what had giving the reek its source. 

 

Kiibo wasn’t sure he wanted to know the cause of the new smell, or whether or not it was legal. In Japan or otherwise.

 

“You’re staring again. Look, I know I’m sexy, but it’s becoming a bother.”

 

“Oh!  _ Oh _ ! I-I apologize again, Ouma-kun, I was thinking and I must have trailed off while looking in your direction and--” Kiibo scrambles, blushing feverishly and waving his hands as if to dismiss the other boy’s implications.

 

“Save it.” he orders, with a royal wave of his hand. “Something’s up, and you’d better tell me what it is.”

 

“I…” Kiibo doesn’t know where to begin, or if he wants to at all. The truth is, something had been bothering him, for a while. 

 

“I...have been wondering why you are my friend, that is all. Or rather, I have been wondering why you show any interest in me at all. I do not know why you do it, but I appreciate it. Because more than anything, I have wanted a friend. And it is through your company that I have found one.

 

“If nothing else, Ouma-kun, I would at least like to say that I am truly thankful.”

 

_ But even more than that, I am undeserving. _

 

_ Because I am just a robot, and that is all I will ever be. You are my reminder of that. _

 

_ I do not mind being your slave. I do not mind carrying your bags, and whatever illegal items you have in them, pressed between your heavy books. I do not mind being the person who fetches things for you, or giving your aching feet a rub at the end of a weary day trekking in the halls. _

 

_ Because, even if it is yours, and even if you can be more like a petulant child than the “supreme ruler” you say you are, I finally have the company I have needed for so long. _

 

_ Mistreat me as you may, remind me of what I wish to forget, it is through you that I am no longer lonely.  _

 

_ And I need to know why. _

 

For once, Ouma is speechless. He opens his mouth, as if a moment from saying something, before slowly pressing his lips together again. Ouma talks when he wants to, and doesn’t when he does not. Kiibo can almost see the gears spinning in his friend’s head, smell the steam coming out of his ears with his brain going into overload. Ouma’s mouth opens and closes multiple times, he even jumbles out incoherent, unreadable noises, having started to speak but tripping over his words.

 

It’s the first time Kiibo’s ever seen him like this.

 

Kiibo’s own mind begins working too.

 

Ouma sighs, deep and from the bottom of his lungs. The breeze, ever tangling through his purple hair, the fanning locks of mismatched lilacs and subdued blues, Kiibo’s only recently noticed, serves as the only noise between the two as Ouma collects himself.

 

Eyes closed, a widespread lopsided grin blossoms over the boy’s face.

 

“As if I’d tell you that.”

 

An awkward pause settles in the air, it weighs down on Kiibo’s shoulders, and his chest tightens.

 

_ All that mustering up...just to say this? _

 

_ I do not get Ouma-kun at all. _

 

Kiibo laughs, momentarily and without humor. Anything to destroy the silence. He’d settle for whatever, as long as the 

 

“Even if you did tell me, how could I trust what you would say? You are just a liar, after all.”

 

He’s more than happy to repeat Ouma’s words against him.

 

This scares him too.

 

Ouma huffs loudly, audible even from his place in the tree. He growls at Kiibo, sending a wave of guilt down the robot’s spine. It’s his own words, and while he never could have expected it, Ouma being upset--upset at  _ him _ \--is more than enough of an indication.

 

The boy leaps from his branch, swinging the bag over his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, well you’re just a robot, so what do you know?” he hisses.

 

Before Kiibo knows what happened, Ouma’s smiling. As if nothing had ever happened, or he’d never been upset. Maybe it was just another one of his lies.

 

“Now then, let’s head back inside, I’m cold now.” he pats Kiibo’s shoulder, wincing when the frigid temperature had settled into the metal and chills his hand. “I’ll be needing a hot chocolate when we get back to my room; extra whipped cream and marshmallows.  _ Don’t skimp me out,  _ or I’ll make you do it over again.”

 

He takes a few steps forward.

 

“Oh.” Ouma turns around, looking Kiibo straight in the eyes and grinning. “I want a cinnamon roll too. Normally you’d do, but I’m hungry for something other than robot right now.” 

 

The boy extends a hand. “Shall we then, robot? Don’t keep me waiting.”

 

Kiibo collects his things swiftly, joining Ouma at his stand-still place on the pavement sidewalk. The wind and the rustle of trees are the only thing in the distance, with Ouma no longer in a talking mood.

 

Even with Ouma apparently having forgotten, Kiibo can’t shake his backhanded remark. He wonders if it bothered Ouma in the slightest, which wasn’t his intention.

  
He’d tried to break the silence, do anything to quell the overbearing weight of what Ouma’s silence is, just as how the sounds of fall do as they walk.

 

He doesn’t know why, but rather than complain internally like usual, Kiibo looks forward to sitting down with Ouma, even serving his every need. Perhaps like on that magical first day at Hope’s Peak they’ll do nothing but talk, talk about their lives before they met, or talk about the little nothings that amount to nothing.

 

Ouma perplexes him to no end. Every move he makes, every word that tumbles out of his loose lips, is something new and unexpected. It drives Kiibo mad with wanting to know more. He wants to understand Ouma, make friends with him beyond the lies he tells.

 

And yet...

 

_ I am...just a robot. How can I hope for Ouma-kun to see beyond my face and my body when I can not even do it myself? _

 

Ouma’s a grim reminder. He has been ever since they first met, calling Kiibo a “bucket of bolts,” sometimes saying he has an “empty metal skull,” or even outright saying calling him the dreaded r-word. 

 

Kiibo does his best to reason that it’s Ouma kidding around.

 

_ But with someone like Ouma-kun, is it even possible to tell when he is lying, or when he is telling the truth? _

 

_ Was he lying when he said he made friends with me not because I am a robot?  _

 

“Ugh, you’re spacing out a lot today. It’s annoying.” Ouma takes another sip of the drink he had Kiibo prepare for him, smiling warmly when it touches his lips. Kiibo kneels in front of him, massaging between his toes like he knows Ouma likes.

 

“You sure you don’t have a screw or two loose?”

 

_ As I find myself actually enjoying manual labor and rubbing your feet?  _

  
_ Yeah, I am not so sure that I do not. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, if something doesn't make sense or could be improved, please let me know. I'm always seeking opportunities to better my writing!
> 
> Also, I'd like to thank everyone who has commented, or left kudos, or, heck, even read this thing. I honestly didn't expect anyone to read this at all, and it has been a welcome surprise to hear people supporting my writing! I'm very thankful for all of it! 
> 
> Lastly, I'd like to say that this was a bit of a hard chapter to write. I'm trying to keep this fic at 10 chapters or below, which is why I added some more sprinklings of future romantic tension while still keeping their feelings platonic. It probably reads weird, and if it does, please let me know so I can go back and repair.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on Ao3, so comments/feedback would be greatly appreciated. I would love to improve my writing!
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> PS. Sorry if this felt out-of-character, I'm not used to writing for this ship.


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